


Bambi On Ice

by chiefguideandcenter (kuriositet)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Ice Skating, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-14
Updated: 2013-07-14
Packaged: 2017-12-20 05:22:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/883411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuriositet/pseuds/chiefguideandcenter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Combeferre feels like he should have known that something like this would happen. He should have known better— he does know better than to expect any less when Jean Prouvaire is involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bambi On Ice

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first fic in Les Misérables fandom. Hopefully it's not too bad.
> 
> For Yasmin. (Who also betaed it. Any remaining mistakes are my own.)

Combeferre feels like he should have known that something like this would happen. He should have known better— he does know better than to expect any less when Jean Prouvaire is involved.

Still, when Jehan had snagged his arm as he exited the Musain forty minutes earlier, saying that they should walk home together, he had not once thought that he might find himself squeezing his feet into a bulky and terribly uncomfortable pair of ice skates. Yet here he is. And there Jehan is, wearing a much neater pair of figure skates, looking at Combeferre impatiently.

“Ready?” he doesn’t wait for an answer before grasping Combeferre’s gloved hand in his own and pulling him to his feet and towards the ice. It’s not Combeferre’s first time on the ice, but it has been many years since he last had the time or interest for it, so to say that his initial steps onto the ice are far from graceful is no exaggeration. He does, however, manage it a lot better than Jehan who does a fine impression of Bambi and stays upright only by sheer force of will and his death grip on Combeferre’s hand.

“I’m not sure this is such a good idea. Have you ever done this before?” Combeferre voices his concerns when Jehan hesitantly pushes off with one foot but only really manages to jeopardize his balance.

“No, but I’ve seen it done. It shouldn’t be too hard.” Jehan eases his grip on Combeferre’s hand as he tries to move forward again, and rather than having Jehan let go and fall, Combeferre keeps hold of him and starts skating, pulling Jehan with him.

“It’s easier when you gain some speed,” he says as Jehan stumbles a few times.

“I know,” the poet replies. “I roller skated once. It’s quite similar.”

Combeferre lets out a soft sound of relief as a young couple skates past them. Maybe this doesn’t have to end with someone’s carotid artery sliced open by the blade of an ice skate. 

“I did break my ankle though, so I guess I wasn’t very good,” Prouvaire continues and Combeferre sighs again, but a quick look over at his friend makes him smile instead. Jehan is grinning with his whole face, like a child on Christmas morning, without a care in the world. His long braid blows in the wind as he gains confidence and speed and, when strands of his hair start coming loose, Combeferre finds himself wanting to reach out and tuck them back behind his ear.

He loses track of time as they skate around and around, but he figures it must be getting pretty late as the people skating around them grow scarce until they’re the only ones left. Not once have they let go of each other’s hand, nor have they fallen, but as the ice rink empties Jehan grows braver and decides he should try a pirouette. 

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” Combeferre protests, but the poet has already dropped his hand and is skating away towards the center of the rink with surprising speed and agility. He comes to a halt without losing his balance and then, lifting his left foot awkwardly, turns just over 360 degrees before toppling over and sitting on his ass.

Combeferre doesn’t laugh. He just skates over and offers Jehan a hand, so he really doesn’t deserve it when Jehan pulls him down onto the ice which immediately melts and soaks the knees of his pants.

Jehan’s laughter starts out as a giggle but then it grows and he’s laughing so hard he drops down to lie on his back, right there on the ice, and it’s not long before Combeferre joins him, their hands clasped once more. He thinks for a brief moment that it’s a good thing Joly isn’t there or he would throw a fit over them just lying there on the ice, but then he looks at Jehan’s face and he forgets all about Joly.

Jehan looks back, his long hair a mess and his cheeks flushed, and he’s grinning. They lie there under the stars for another few minutes, regaining their breaths and collecting their thoughts before they finally begin to try and get up, which proves all the more difficult with stiff and cold limbs, ice skates still strapped to their feet. They finally manage, however, and huddle together for balance and warmth, still at the center of the rink.

“Hey, I’m glad you came,” Jehan says softly, eyes cast down almost bashfully. Combeferre thinks for a moment that he didn’t come voluntarily so much as he got his walk home hijacked before getting lured here, but then again, he does know better than to assume time spent with Jean Prouvaire will be anything but an adventure.

“Me too,” Combeferre says. Jehan looks up again and there’s a strand of strawberry blond hair stuck to his freckled cheek and Combeferre doesn’t even think before he reaches up to push it back behind Jehan’s ear.

Jehan blushes again as he leans forward. The fingers of his free hand curl into the fabric of Combeferre’s coat and their noses bump a little awkwardly at first. Combeferre reaches up to straighten his glasses and then threads his fingers through Jehan’s hair as he tilts his head a little to the left and deepens the kiss. Combeferre doesn’t realize how cold he has gotten until he feels warmth blossom everywhere Jehan touches him, and it’s with great reluctance he pulls away.

“It’s getting cold,” he says.

Jehan nods. “My apartment is just a few blocks from here. I’ll make tea.” It’s a question, and the answer is very simple.

“As long as I can get these things off of my feet I’ll drink anything.” Jehan smiles, his cheeks flushing pink, and laces their fingers together as they skate towards the edge of the ice rink where they had left their shoes.


End file.
